Asleep Sidestories
by Gone2GroundEX
Summary: Sidestories, support conversations, alternate universes and background for my other fic, Asleep. First: Walhart's Rise. WIP: Chrom and Cordelia's dinner.


"RECRUIT WALHART! RECRUIT XERXES! FRONT AND CENTER!"

The teenaged warriors leaped out of bed and snapped to attention, ignoring the pain that came from sleeping in full plate armour, saluting their training officer who stood there, quivering with rage.

"Bloody disgrace, the lot of you." He grumbled, motioning for them to follow him. "Come, there's a tactics meeting."

"We're being deployed to the field, sir?" Xerxes asked with excitement, his massive form - almost half again as large as Walhart, and still growing - quivering with the barely contained urge to commit violence. Their training officer nodded.

"Aptimus Zaal has decreed you two will be joining the cataphract facing Chon'Sin's forces today, under the Archdomina Makeda herself." He growled. "He seems to think you show promise."

Walhart allowed himself a small smile and dropped his hand to the handle of Wolf Berg. As was tradition, every Skornish recruit would forge their own personal weapon towards the end of their training, for use in official duels and in the event that their official weapons were destroyed over the course of the battle. The forge master overseeing Wolf Berg's construction had been audibly impressed, declaring it a potential equal to the famous Hauteclaire.

Xerxes had settled for a pair of massive iron-and-stone clubs, which he strapped to the back of his armour. One of their follow recruits had mocked him for it, but the sheer force Xerxes could put behind those weapons was astronomical.

As he'd proven during his Blooding, where he'd flattened the taunter in one swing. The two recruits stepped into the briefing tent - a massive canopy with a circular table in the centre, with a hole carved for the commander to stand and observe from - and managed to hustle behind two older spearmen in the second row. Archdomina Makeda, every inch an empress, glared out at her soldiers from underneath tightly cropped white hair. Her two swords, crafted in the chon'sin style as a taunt to their most common foe, crossed her back, hair dangling from the hilts. It was said that one hair was taken from every man or woman the Archdomina had killed in battle with those swords and tied to the hilt as decoration - if that was true, the bundle was almost an inch thick and several more inches long. Walhart gulped nervously and focused on the briefing rather than the rumours.

"…the local Chon'sin forces made a retaliatory strike last week. They're going to be coming back this way." Makeda smirked. "Their retreat blocked off by our cataphract, while three more close in on the sides. Their swordsmen shall fall to our spears, and their famed General shall be the first to die."

"URA!" One of the Tyrants - equivalent to a Ylissean captaincy - roared. It was taken up by rest of the soldiers, even Walhart and his compatriot. Makeda raised a hand for silence, smiling thinly.

"I understand we have two new recruits." She raised an eyebrow, eyes settling on Walhart and Xerxes. "Would they care to step forward?"

The entire two rows in front of them stepped aside as one, slamming their feet in perfect sync. Walhart and Xerxes shared a shrug, and walked up. Makeda glanced at them.

"Your names?"

"Walhart, commander."

"Xerxes, mistress."

Makeda's eyes flickered in surprise as she heard Walhart's response.

"Commander?"

"It is true, is it not?" Walhart stared defiantly. Makeda stared into his eyes, and saw the pure ambition there. She grinned.

"Yes, it is. Tell me, Walhart, Xerxes. Why do you fight?"

"For glory." Xerxes grinned. Walhart frowned slightly.

"…Walhart?"

"To unite everything under one banner." Walhart said finally. "To prove that, once and for all, those with power are the only ones that matter."

The room fell silent. In the back, Aptimus Zaal - an aging arch sage - began giggling to himself. Makeda blinked.

"A lofty goal. Whose banner, if I may be so bold? Your own?"

"If I prove to be the strongest in the end." Walhart shrugged. Audible gasps filled the room. Makeda vaulted onto the table and strode across it towards him, drawing one of her Chon'sin swords.

She reached him, and sheathed the blade again. Walhart let out an internal sigh of relief - and then one of the two vaunted Relics of the Skorne armoury was at his throat.

Sol pricked the skin, blood running down her blade. Walhart hadn't even seen the Archdomina move. "That is arrogant of you, Walhart."

"I didn't say I was the strongest NOW, commander." Walhart said levelly, not flinching. Makeda stared into his eyes, and then lowered the blade back into its waist sheath.

"In a few years, we shall see." Makeda nodded thoughtfully. "You are forged of steel, Walhart."

Walhart nodded slightly. Makeda turned to the rest of the hall. "You have your orders. Dismissed."

The soldiers saluted and marched away, collecting their standard issue spears and tower shields at the door. Walhart and Xerxes were the last two out.

"Why was she so interested in you?" Xerxes grumbled once they were outside. Walhart glanced over at his massive comrade, frowning.

"Because I provided an answer she doesn't hear every five minutes."

"Fine." Xerxes grunted, a hint of a smile on his face. "See you on the battlefield."

* * *

Three years had passed since Walhart's first battle as a recruit. True to Makeda's word, the fight had been a slaughter - the Chon'sin forces had consisted of light cavalry, a raiding party, and they had been boxed in by the Skornish spearmen. The Chon'sin general had made one last charge, only to be met by Makeda and her Royal Knights.

The heavily armoured Skorne lancers impaled men and horses alike on that charge. Walhart could still see Makeda in that moment, the fabled Luna spiralling around her body, decapitating three men in an instant before impaling the Chon'sin commander through the heart. At that moment, he'd contemplated reconsidering his plan, but decided against it.

This would be his chance. He had fought through two years of constant skirmishing with the Chon'sin, and risen to the rank of Tyrant. The only complication was the fact that Xerxes had done the same.

Now, they found themselves here, in the duelling ring, competing for command of the Grand Army and the choice of their target for the next war. Skorne lived for war, thrived in it. Xerxes wanted to go after Chon'sin again, Makeda didn't care, the other Tyrants had been defeated in the earlier rounds.

Walhart wanted to go after Valm, a smaller country to the border. When asked why, he had replied simply:

"This continent is called Valm as well. It is only fitting that we should call it that when we rule it all - it would avoid complication on the maps to have the country under our control."

That had gotten another scowl out of Makeda, whose original interest in the soldier had turned into worry. This would be her only chance to dispose of the ambitious Tyrant, to have his classmate and fellow military genius kill him now.

It wouldn't do to have someone like that in charge of her forces.

Xerxes grinned, any sense of honour long ago torn away by war and blood. That was one of the reasons Walhart wanted everything to be united - when everything was one, there would be no men like him, living off of violence that he never would have experienced otherwise. Walhart hefted Wolf Berg, and charged. Xerxes' clubs came swinging around, whooshing over Walhart's head as he dived under them, hewing at Xerxes' leg and drawing a minimal amount of blood. The Titan of Skorne roared in anger and brought the clubs around again, cracking the stone floor of the arena when Walhart dodged.

"CEASE YOUR COWARDICE, WALHART!"

"Fool." Walhart scowled. "I'd be an idiot to block those. Dodging is the only option."

Xerxes howled in rage and dived at him, bringing the clubs down over his head. Walhart ducked to the side, and buried his axe in Xerxes' gut, driving him to the floor. The Tyrant dropped to his knees, screaming in pain, and Walhart kicked him to the floor.

Walhart met Makeda's gaze, and brought the ax down on Xerxes' neck, killing him. Makeda, scowling, rose to her feet.

Walhart began to talk.

"SKORNE! DO YOU SEE WHERE YOUR COMBAT GETS YOU? NOWHERE!" He roared. Makeda paled. "THIS BLOODSHED DOES NOT EXPAND OUR COUNTRY! WE CHANGE OUR OPPONENT EVERY TIME WE REACH A PEACE TREATY FOR ETERNAL WAR! WE HAVE A TALENT NO OTHERS CAN CLAIM, A TALENT FOR WAR! WE CAN UNITE THE WORLD UNDER ONE BANNER, FREE OF CRIME AND POVERTY! THE STRONG SHALL RULE THE WEAK, AND WE SHALL FORM UTOPIA!"

Walhart raised the bloody ax into the air and pointed at Makeda.

"I will go to any lengths for this dream." He whispered, before raising his voice. "I CHALLENGE ARCHDOMINA MAKEDA FOR THE RULERSHIP OF SKORNE!"

The arena fell silent. Makeda stepped into the arena and drew Sol.

"I accept." She said simply. "If you wish to die…SO BE IT!"

She dived forward, Sol's blade spiralling into a downwards chop. Walhart was tired, he'd fought an entire tournament today. He was a recruit with only three years of true combat, there was no possible way he could defeat a twelve-year veteran, one of the greatest swordsmen to ever live.

He even had the inferior weapon type to hers, for crying out loud.

Walhart met Makeda's stare, and caught Sol in one gauntleted hand. He kicked her in the stomach, hard, shattering her spine beyond repair. Makeda fell to the floor, gasping, as Walhart flexed his hand. The gauntlet had been cut through, but no blood showed.

"…what…are you?" Makeda whispered. Walhart glared at her.

"The bringer of a new age." He hissed, picking up Sol. "SKORNE! FROM THIS DAY ON, WE ARE VALM! WE ARE ONE!"

The arena erupted into roars as messengers ran to spread the events to the people of the small militant country. Spears rattled against shields and men stomped, a chant forming.

"ONE EMPIRE! ONE RULER! ONE EMPIRE! ONE RULER!"

Walhart pointed Wolf Berg to the east, towards the country of Valm. "Let's start expanding. ATTACK, AND DON'T STOP UNTIL THE ENTIRE COUNTRY IS OURS!"

"WAL-HART! WAL-HART! WAL-HART!"

As he lead his soldiers out to the east, Aptimus Zaal walked to Makeda's shattered body, a handful of soldiers with him. "…how?" Makeda gasped. "He should have been…tired…I underestimated him-"

"You underestimated his cleverness." Zaal corrected her, dropping something - a Physic staff. "He had healers in the audience."

Makeda scowled as she picked it up. "Every wound he took was healed without our noticing..."She spat. "Let me guess - they gave him energy too?"

"He's not tired." Zall shrugged. "Although...perhaps you did underestimate him. He did cripple you, after all."

"Strap me to a horse and I can still fight." Makeda spat. "He should have given me a warrior's death...that shall prove to be a mistake on his part."

"In the future, perhaps." Zaal allowed. "But for now, we must withdraw. Our enemy is young, strong, fairly handsome and most importantly charismatic. He already has those who assembled here under his banner, as the tale spreads and becomes legend the rest of Skorne will join him. We must wait for a moment of weakness, and strike."

"You are sounding more like Morghul every second." Makeda grumbled, letting the two loyal soldiers pull her up and half-carry her, one arm around each of her shoulders. Zaal smiled.

"I shall take being compared to the Master Assassin a compliment." He bowed, before frowning. "Let us hope he does not side with Walhart on this matter."

As the remnants of what Skorne used to be left the arena to plot, Walhart and his men marched on Valm. The pitifully small country's border guards lasted maybe an hour as the heavily armored spearmen tore through their palisades, and within a week Walhart had broken into the capital and confronted the king, who had immediately surrendered.

For being not a complete idiot, he was allowed to keep his life and swear fealty to the new Emperor of Valm. The total time it took Walhart to assert domination over his country of birth and his first target of conquest: two months in total. Their closest neighbours, Chon'sin and Roseanne, mustered their forces but found themselves confronted by Skornish spearmen backed up by Valmese mages. Their swords and bows became useless, and soon both countries were also subjucated or convinced to serve. Yen'fay, to save his sister's life, became on of Walhart's three most trusted generals. Cervantes, a Roseannian knight, became leader of his royal guard while Excellus, a Valmese mage, became his 'tactician', not that she was needed.

A resistance formed, for sure, mostly consisting of Chon'sin and Roseannian troops from the first battles, led by Say'ri and Lelldorallen, one of the few remaining Roseannian knights who still believed in the old code of chivalry after Walhart's conquest. A second resistance, calling themselves the True Skorne, rised in the west but refused to join with the other resistance groups, calling them weak and too gentle to fight the Emperor, on many occasions striking out against them to prove a point or train their forces.

Virion fled to Ylisse, in search of reinforcements, while after a year the remaining bastions of independant nations crumbled or surrendered. Soon, Walhart's vision came true - one united Valm, under one man of great power. The resistance groups, thanks to his 'advisor', were of no threat to him. He turned his eye over the ocean, improved his army, and waited.

The war with Plegia would surely damage the continent's forces beyond reasonable repair. A little prudence before invading never hurt anyone.

* * *

A/N: So, this was an attempt to flesh out Valm as a continent beyond the three cultures we are semi-given. As far as geography goes, Chon'sin and the country of Valm are both adjacent to Skorne, a small kingdom that is basically Sparta except more hardcore. It was heavily based on Privateer Press' _Iron Kingdoms_ setting, where there existed a race of warriors called the Skorne. However, these are not grey-skinned, soulless semi-elves who torture baby elephants to weaponize their screams (I am not kidding. It's fucked up). Several of the characters - Aptimus Zaal, Archdomina Makeda and the brief Tyrant Xerxes - were also based on pre-existing Skorne characters. Other nations include various other, currently unnamed, duchies/counties similar to Roseanne (so, mostly feudal European in culture/tactics) and the reclusive Urboros, a druid culture living in the woods spread across the continent, sometimes in hamlets like the one found in Owain's recruitment chapter.

The decision to have Walhart come from a different country stemmed from his appearance (different from most other Valmese we see), and a desire to have his backstory/drive to conquer NOT stem from some kind of trauma. Instead, he legitimately believes it is the best possible solution for the world, as he was bred in a country of endless violence and battle - which led to an understanding that the rest of the world was weak, and should be subjugated, while reviling what he was brought up to believe.

The choice of armament for the Skorne forces was a little in-joke I had about the Soldier NPC class. They're all like that.

Now, a quick glossary for future reference:

Skorne - A country to the west of Valm, inhabited mostly by warriors and those who supply them. Fiercely loyal to those they believe strongest.

Valm, Country - To the north-west, consisting of a mountain range, a castle, and some villages. Turned into the capital of the continent following Walhart's conquest, pathetic to begin with.

Tyrant - Skornish Captain

Archdomina - Empress

Aptimus - Mage General

Blooding - ritual fight between the trainees, the last five standing are initiated into the army. In Walhart's, only he and Xerxes survived.

Sol and Luna - The Royal Weapons of the Skorne empire, normally wielded by the Archdominus/Archdomina or a champion. Sol was taken by Walhart, Luna is still in Makeda's possession.


End file.
